by J. D. Light
"Maybe we should wait to tell them," he tried, eyes wide.
"You know I love them, right? We've established this," I started again, but again, I was interrupted.
"Yeah. It's why I'm so scared they're going to hate me. That bullshit with Martin hurt my pride more than anything because I'd fallen for his lies, but it's going to kill me if they hate me and talk you into leaving me."
I pulled him into my arms, pressing my forehead to his, so he had to look me in the eye. "I'm going to finish this statement now, and if you interrupt me, I'm going to kiss you until you pass out, do you understand me?" He blinked in surprise, but nodded, a small smile on his lips. "I love them… but I also love you."
He gasped, trying to pull back, his mouth already open to say something, but I glared, shaking my head.
"Don't you dare interrupt." When he closed his mouth, I smiled happily. "They would never ask me to give you up, even if it was possible for them not to love you too. But, if for some crazy reason, they lost their minds and told me to leave you, I'd remind them where the door was and tell them not to bother coming back until they are ready to adore you the way I do."
"Why would you do that?" he demanded, somehow looking more nervous than he had before. "I'm not worth that? I'm not worth losing the people you love over."
I sighed, pressing my whiskered cheek against his. "You are one of the people I love, sweetheart. I'm not losing you. If the worst happens and they leave, they'll come around eventually, because they love me too."
But I had all the confidence in the world that they would love him and our relationship.
"Do you really love me?" He asked, nuzzling closer, probably irritating the skin of his cheek to a bright pink, but it was something he loved, and I loved to see the beautiful color of his skin when I was done.
"Of course, sweetheart. How could I not?"
"I love you too, Byrum."
I pulled back, once again pressing my mouth to his. He sighed happily, tilting his head and opening his lips so I could dip inside. We kissed for a few moments and it turned from sweet to hot in no time, like it always did. I was about ready to say screw Thanksgiving and start taking that damn shirt off of him again, so I could drag him over to our bed since he'd moved his stuff into my room, but the sound of the front door opening and then shutting in the living room followed by arguing, had me pulling back and letting my head fall back on my shoulders as I groaned out my frustration.
"It's twelve minutes, Wellston," Wilder said, sounding exasperated. "You act like we're an hour late or something. He won't even serve food until noon."
"Because," my uptight son snapped. "It's rude to be late."
"It's Byrum." Wilder's voice rose with his indignance. "He expects us to be late."
"No, he expects you to be late. I was always on time for everything before I started dating you."
"Come on," I grumbled, dragging Jefferson toward the living room. "If this keeps up, Wilder will kiss him to make him shut up, and I'll have to squirt them with water, so I don't have to see things I'm better off not seeing."
***
"I think I can mash potatoes on my own," Jefferson said as I stepped up behind him, pressing myself to his back and wrapping my hand around his hand where he gripped the masher.
"You looked like you were having trouble."
My son yelled something about potatoes, and I frowned, looking over my shoulder for a moment, before shaking my head and turning back to what was important. "I wish we could get rid of these two." I pressed my crotch to his ass, letting him feel how hard I was just from standing behind him. "I don't know if I'm going to make it through the next ten minutes, much less however long they end up staying. Wilder will probably eat his weight in dressing and pass out on the couch again, and then we'll have to listen to Wellston decide if he wants a second plate, or his cross-country scholarship."
Jefferson turned, frowning as he tapped the masher on the side of the bowl. "He'll lose his cross-country scholarship if he eats a second plate?"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "That's right, you haven't gotten to spend much time with him. He can be a bit high-strung."
We turned to look into the living room to find Wellston with his hand plastered over Wilder's mouth while nodding his head. It looked an awful lot like a proposal.
"Are we missing something big?" Jefferson asked, out of the side of his mouth.
I raised my eyebrows, pursing my lips. "Huh. I thought for sure Wellston would make him wait until Christmas to propose. You know, because dating for three months instead of two is far more reasonable for a proposal." I shook my head, chuckling softly at my ridiculous son. "Let's go see what these idiots are up to."
Next Up in the Series:
Or the Highway: Haven Hills Book 2
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